The First Annual Hunger Games
by TheAngryTaco
Summary: A look through the eyes of a Capitol official and a Tribute at the very first Hunger Games.
1. The Spark (Sotiris)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 1: The Spark (Sotiris)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: By know, I'm sure everyone in the world knows about The Hunger Games and what they are. What I've always been curious about is how the Games started out. Who suggested the Games? How did the Tributes fare without mentors? How did the traditions of sponsors and stylists and all of those other Games necessities start? What mistakes were made on both the Tribute and Capitol sides? And who won the original Games?

This story is my personal vision of the answers to those questions. It will be told through the eyes of Sotiris (a Capitol official) and later Embla (a Tribute).

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or anything in that franchise. I do, however, own the characters in this story. Please enjoy this look into the first annual Hunger Games.

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Sotiris sat outside his wife's room, waiting patiently for the doctors to finish checking up on her. He looked at his watch, mild frustration crossing his expression. The had sustained some damage during one of the various rebel attacks on the Capitol, but it still functioned properly as it showed that the doctors had been in there for nearly three hours. He sighed and ran his fingers over the tiny pearls that were embedded in the silver, trying to take his mind off of everything that had happened.

A few days prior, in a final, desperate attack on the city, the rebels had bombed several buildings. One of the targets had been the complex where himself and several other prominent Capitol officials lived with their families. Sotiris had fortunately been working late when the bombs went off, but many others hadn't been so lucky. His young son, Varius, had been killed by falling rubble. Tasia, his wife, had been found unconscious but still alive after a few hours. He closed his eyes, reliving the emotions from the discovery of their bodies.

"Chancellor Stone?"

He opened his eyes and stood as the doctors exited the room. One walked over to him. "You're clear to see her now."

"Any news?" Sotiris asked.

"You'll have to ask her," the doctor replied, shrugging apologetically before going on his way.

Sotiris looked surprised, but nodded and went in. His wife lay on a solitary bed, watching the television set in the corner. She had once been a real beauty, with luscious brown hair and pale skin without a single flaw. Now, with numerous tubes sticking out of her bruised skin and stitches all across her shaved head, she was nearly unrecognizable. Only her brown eyes, as hard and cold as a rock in the winter, remained the same. "Evening, Tasia," Sotiris said softly.

Her eyes flickered in his direction, softening when she realized who it was. "Sotiris," she replied, trying to extend her hand toward him.

He took her hand and replaced it on her bed. "I'm right here," he soothed. "Don't try to move if you don't have to."

Tasia looked upset, but complied. "Please take my hand," she requested quietly. "I need to know that you're really there."

Sotiris felt his heart swell with emotion. He carefully lay his hand on hers, their fingers intertwining. "How are you doing?" he asked, careful not to let his voice catch.

An amused smile crossed her face. "A building fell on me, Sotiris," she replied. "Take a guess."

Sotiris chuckled in spite of himself. "I guess that's true," he admitted. "But so what? You'll be as good as new soon."

Tasia looked away, sadness filling her eyes. Sotiris stared at her, confused. "What's wrong?"

"The doctors have told me that I don't have more than a couple of days left."

He felt like he'd been hit in the chest with a train. "What?"

"You heard me," Tasia answered, unable to meet his eyes. "Several of my organs have been damaged beyond what our technology can repair. If I wasn't hooked up to all of these machines, I would already be dead."

He shook his head rapidly, refusing to believe her. "That's not true. It can't be," he told her. "If it is, why didn't the doctors say anything to me?"

"I asked them not to," she said simply. "I wanted to be the one to tell you."

His eyes closed as his face contorted in pain. "Tasia, no," he whispered. "Varius is already gone...I can't lose you too."

Tasia's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Sotiris..."

A loud, patriotic fanfare blaring from the TV prevented him from learning more. Sotiris struggled to get his emotions under control as he turned to see what was happening. Severina Fox, the president of Panem, walked onto a stage and stood at a podium before a large crowd in the largest square that the Capitol had. She waited a moment to ensure that everyone was watching, then began her address. "Ladies and gentlemen, to those here in the Capitol and to those in the Districts, good evening. Thank you for joining us tonight."

She held out a hand. From the side, a young woman handed Fox a small glass of water. The president took a casual sip, then continued. "As you know, we have already beaten twelve Districts into submission and completely destroyed the thirteenth. We have also captured the final leaders of the rebellion that has caused us all so much pain. They have all been found guilty of the crime of treason. Tonight, to ensure that everyone understands that justice is served by the Capitol, we have invited you to join us in watching the traitors as their sentence is carried out."

She pointed off to the side as she spoke. The cameras turned to focus on a large gallows looming nearby. Loops of rope, already coiled and ready for a victim, hung ominously from the heavy beams. Next to the gallows, there was a line of eight people in chains, each person escorted by a Capitol guard. The lead guard barked something, and the prisoners were all forced to march up the stairs and stand behind a rope. Tasia gripped Sotiris's hand hard. He glanced back to see her mouth had turned into a thin line as she watched the events. He reached for the remote.

"Don't you dare change the channel," Tasia said sharply.

Sotiris dropped the device as if it had suddenly turned red hot. "Yes, ma'am," he said quickly.

Tasia gave a quick nod, grunting in discomfort as she did so. A loud clamor returned his attention to the TV. One of the rebels, a woman he vaguely remembered as being named Penelope, had punched her guard and was fighting desperately to get free. The other rebels seemed to pick up her energy and joined in the fight. The citizens nearest to the gallows screamed and tried to scramble away from the violence. Others who were farther away started screaming for blood. Sotiris sat still, utterly transfixed by what he was seeing.

A loud gunshot rang out across the square followed by a loud groan. Everyone fell silent as they looked around, trying to figure out who had shot whom. Then the camera refocused on Fox, who was pointing a gun at the gallows. "I despise violence," she said coldly. "That was pointless and, quite frankly, stupid."

Another camera found the body of a rebel man face down on the stairs of the gallows, blood dripping from a hole in his head. Penelope looked like she was about to faint as she stared down at him. "Bring the woman over to me," the president ordered. "Ready the rest of them as planned."

Two guards grabbed Penelope and began to drag her across. The crowd hissed at her as she passed, occasionally yelling insults and curses. The young woman from before brought out a chair and placed it next to Fox. The guards forced the rebel into the chair and tied her securely to it. The woman struggled to break free, but the look on her face showed that she knew it was hopeless. The president glanced at a sheet of paper on the podium. "You would be Penelope Sparrow, originally from District 13, correct?"

The woman glared defiantly at Fox and refused to answer. The president sighed, then gripped the rebel's right hand. With a sickening crack, Fox snapped one of Penelope's fingers back. The woman screamed in agony. "Oh, you do have a voice," the president said coolly. "Excellent. Now, identify yourself."

The woman clamped her mouth shut, though pain was still evident in her eyes. The president frowned, clearly annoyed. "I don't have all evening," she growled.

When she still got nothing, Fox repeated her actions on another finger. And then another. And another. Except for her cries of pain, the entire square fell silent as the scene unfolded. Finally, the woman had no more fingers to break. She collapsed in her chair, crying, as Fox wiped her hands on a towel. "I think we have reached an understanding now. Wouldn't you agree?"

The woman, still crying, didn't answer. Fox smiled at her and moved to stand next to her. "Now then...what is your name and your District?"

"Penelope Sparrow," the woman finally replied, her voice shaking. "District 13."

"There. Was that really so hard?" Fox asked calmly, taking another sip of water.

Penelope hung her head. Fox laid her hand on her shoulder, smiling. "You don't want to die, do you, Penelope?"

The rebel's answer was inaudible to the cameras, but Fox heard it loud and clear. "No, you don't," she said. "And that's perfectly fine with me. I have an idea that I think will suit us both."

Penelope looked up at Fox, her expression one of dread. Fox ignored her and nodded toward the gallows, where the remaining rebels were waiting in their nooses. "But first, we do have to take care of your companions."

She nodded to the guards. Snapping sounds filled the air as ropes tightened and necks broke. Penelope's expression was one of pure grief as she watched. The camera then returned to Fox as she stepped back to the podium. "Thank you all again for joining us," she said as if nothing had happened. "I hope you all have a pleasant evening, and that you'll join us again in the near future."

The Capitol seal came on the screen with a triumphant flourish.

Sotiris let out a deep breath. "That was interesting," he commented.

"It's not enough."

The bitter tone that creeped into Tasia's voice stunned him. He turned back to her. "Tasia, what are you talking about? They're dead, except for that one woman, and I don't envy her in the slightest."

Tasia fixed her hard stare on him. "She'll probably be made an Avox or something," she said coolly. "That's the standard punishment, correct?"

Sotiris nodded. Tasia shut her eyes. "Not enough," she repeated firmly. "If you think tonight stopped any further rebellion, you're fooling yourself."

Sotiris frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You saw the way they fought back," Tasia snapped. "They might play nice for now, but how long will that last? A year? Two maybe? They will strike again, and next time, they might even be stronger."

He knew she was right. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked her.

"You need to crush their spirits," she answered. "Make them understand that if they even think of trying to do this again, they will pay a heavy price."

"Again," he said quietly. "What do you suggest we do?"

Tasia's eyes narrowed. "Kill their children," she said sharply.

"Their...children?" he repeated.

"Yes," she said. "We have lost a child, so you and I both know there's no pain in this world that is anything like it. If you took a handful of children from each District and executed them, and also reminded the Districts of why you're doing it, I think the message would sink in."

He stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide if she was serious or not. "That might be a solution," he said carefully. "But think about how you're reacting right now. What's to stop the people of the Districts from becoming enraged and rebelling again?"

"If you do it now, that would be an issue," she replied. "Hit them while they're down, and then hit then again and again. They won't get back up."

Sotiris's eyes widened as he began to truly consider the possibility. "Make it a yearly thing," he said. "So the Districts have to constantly be reminded of it. And have it televised. That just might work."

Tasia smiled, then started coughing. For a fearful moment Sotiris was afraid he would have to summon a doctor. Then she regained her breath. "Sotiris, please," she said quietly. "Do this for our son...and for me. Do it for every other Capitol citizen who lost a child in this terrible war. Do it for all of Panem so we never have to endure this pain again."

He looked her in the eye. "I'll have to run it by the other officials," he told her. "But I'll do what I can to make it happen. I promise you that."

Tasia relaxed. "I have faith in you," she whispered. She stifled a yawn, then added, "I love you, Sotiris. Never forget that."

He bent down and kissed her lightly. "I love you too," he murmured. "And I never will."

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Feel free to leave a review and let me know how I can improve.


	2. And So It Begins (Sotiris)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 2: And So It Begins (Sotiris)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: Nope, I didn't forget this story. Welcome back to this look into the first Hunger Games. Please, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games franchise. I do, however, own the characters in this story.

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Sotiris rubbed his temples as he waited for the rest of the officials to file into the conference room. Glancing down at his notes, he wondered for what was probably the thousandth time how he was going to persuade them to accept his proposal. He had spent a good part of the night after leaving Tasia trying to organize his thoughts and make the idea more palatable. His guess was that most of his colleagues, particularly the ones who had also lost children in the rebellion, would be on board with punishing the Districts in a more severe manner. However, there was no way to tell for sure whether or not they would like his idea or even take him seriously.

Everyone went silent as President Fox entered the room, her expression unreadable. The young woman Sotiris had seen with her the night before walked in behind her before going to stand against the wall at the back of the room. Sotiris eyed the woman curiously, trying to figure out who she was.

"That's my assistant, Lucretia."

Sotiris nearly fell out of his chair. When he turned, he saw Fox standing next to him, her green eyes piercing him. "Ah," was all he managed to say in response.

Fox moved to the end of the long table and looked out at everyone. "I found Lucretia about a little while back, after my dear Libitina was killed in that awful fire," she explained. "She's become invaluable to me. I hope you don't mind her being here today."

There was a murmur of agreement, as well as one or two words of welcome. Lucretia smiled and looked down, looking embarrassed. Fox cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. "Now then, everyone, we have an extremely important issue to discuss. Did everyone watch the execution last night?"

Everyone nodded, grim expressions on their faces. "As I'm sure you all can guess, I'm not happy about what transpired," Fox commented. "Would anyone like to guess why?"

Everyone stayed silent for a minute, carefully forming their answers in their heads. "Because the prisoners fought back?" ventured an older woman named Celia.

"Partially, yes," Fox replied, her lips pursing. "I'm not pleased that it took so much effort to kill them when it should have been a done deal, though I suppose not going down without a fight should have been expected from them. What else?"

A wiry man named Oberon pushed up his glasses and raised a hand. Fox's face gained an incredulous expression at his childish action, but she nodded in his direction. "We had a lot of regular citizens in attendance. They didn't get hurt, but they easily could have."

"Also partially," Fox agreed. "With the all the chaos, I'm quite surprised that none of them did. But you both seem to be missing the main reason."

"Because their actions show that the rebellion isn't dead."

The entire room fell silent. All eyes turned toward Sotiris. He took a deep breath, thinking of his wife and what she wanted. Then he plunged forward. "The rebel leaders from last night might have been defeated in reality, but not in spirit. They were still fighting against us, even as they were walking to their deaths. That means there are still rebellious spirits out in the Districts."

Fox nodded slowly, looking impressed. "Very good, Sotiris. You've been paying attention." She then turned back to the group. "Sotiris is exactly right," she said. "And what makes it worse is that last night was mandatory viewing in the Districts. That means that this was witnessed by the entire country, which makes the potential for future rebellion that much stronger."

Sotiris shivered as he heard his wife's thoughts echoed by Fox's words. "Do you think there's a way that we can circumvent that?" he heard someone ask.

"There's always a way," Fox answered. "It's just a matter of finding that way. We have to somehow remind the Districts that we're in charge, but we have to make sure we don't set them off in the process. I have a few ideas about how to go about it, but I want to hear yours. There can't be a single stone unturned."

Sotiris stared back down at his notes, silently thanking Tasia for being so aware and vocal. "Perhaps we could do something with District 13?" suggested Celia before he could speak. "We could make some videos using whatever's left as a back drop."

"Interesting," Fox said, writing it down. "Even if it's not the big solution, we need new material for videos. The issue there is that District 13 is uninhabitable, so I'd prefer as few trips out there as possible. Something else?"

A gruff-looking man named Gallus spoke next. "Increase our presence in the Districts," he said. "Make sure every law is strictly enforced, and have all punishments carried out publicly."

Fox smiled. "Good, good," she said. "I definitely like the public punishment idea. It'll have a greater effect on the Districts." She paused to make another note. "All right, what else?"

No one else spoke. Fox's mouth tightened. "I don't believe for a moment that none of you have ideas," she said sharply. "One of the reasons you were given your positions is because you're able to think, after all."

Still no one spoke. Fox made a disgusted noise. "Fine. I suppose I have to call on you. I didn't realize you were still school children," she remarked. Her eyes fell on Oberon. "What say you then?"

The man jumped. "Well," he stammered. "Since we're leaving no stone unturned...what about leaving the Districts alone? Show that we are merciful, and perhaps they will come to love us."

Everyone stared at Oberon. "It is a thought, perhaps," Fox acquiesced. "A long shot though. I don't really like it."

Gallus snorted. "You don't have to be so polite about it, President Fox," he said. He turned to the smaller man. "Weren't you paying any attention? Love and kindness isn't going to keep our city from going up in smoke. That's a horrible idea."

Fox strode over and brought her face within inches of his. "Gallus," she snarled. "Silence."

The man's mouth snapped shut, his aggression evaporating almost at once. Fox's cold eyes bore into him for a long moment, then she turned back to the rest. "As I said at the beginning, I don't want to leave a single stone unturned in the pursuit of our ultimate solution." She looked back at Oberon. "And his suggestion is as valid as any other. I don't think it's the best idea, but he was willing to put it forward, and therefore I am willing to hear it. I expect the same of all of you."

Several heads quickly nodded in agreement. Fox turned her head, looking at each person carefully, making sure each person was in line.

Then her gaze found Sotiris.

He felt a chill go down his spine as the president's smile returned. "Sotiris, you did so well earlier," she said sweetly. "Surely you must have an idea about what to do."

Every head turned in his direction, waiting for his answer. He closed his eyes, hoping Tasia's spirit would give him strength. "I do have an idea," he replied after a moment. He nodded at Gallus. "It ties in with the idea of public punishment, since I think you're right on target with that."

Fox leaned forward, still smiling. "Continue," she encouraged.

Sotiris took a deep breath. "My idea is this," he said carefully. "We have a couple of kids from each District fight to the death."

The entire room went completely still. Fox's smile became fixed. "Come again?" she asked.

"Each District sends a few kids to us, and we send them on to a public arena," Sotiris explained. "There, they fight each other to the death."

Fox looked thoroughly stunned. When she regained her voice, her words were very measured. "What an interesting proposition," she commented.

"Then, next year, we do it again," Sotiris continued. "And then the next year, and the year after that, and so on. Make it an annual event so we can keep reminding the Districts of what we are capable of.

A flicker of comprehension passed through Fox's eyes. "I believe you might be on to something, Sotiris," she said.

The heads all turned back toward Fox. "This seems so extreme though," Celia put forward. "It's likely to be incendiary."

"Not to mention expensive and time-consuming," Gallus remarked. "I'm all for letting the Districts tear each other apart, but this doesn't seem practical."

"Fair, all fair," Fox replied. "But it's the best idea I've heard thus far. And if it works, it's worth the cost."

"Maybe we can find ways to reduce the cost with advertisements and merchandise," Oberon suggested. "If it's televised, we can find plenty of sponsors who will pay to have their products mentioned. We could also allow the kids to bring a trinket from home into the arena with them that could be mass produced and sold."

Fox wrote all of this down. "Wonderful idea, Oberon," she said. She looked back up at Sotiris. "I think we have our idea. Does anyone oppose the idea?"

Celia timidly rose her hand. "I'm only opposed to it because it still seems like something that would set the Districts off," she answered.

Sotiris shook her head. "Not if we can go ahead with it immediately," he said before repeating his wife's advice from the night before. "If we find a place to do it, and soon, we won't have any trouble."

Fox looked extremely pleased. "If that's the only objection, then I say we move forward with this idea," she declared. "Let's take a fifteen minute break, then come back and start fine-tuning the details."

The scraping of chairs filled the air as everyone stood. Sotiris began to walk toward the door, but Fox caught his arm. "Sotiris?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"May I have a quick word with you?"

Knowing better than to refuse, Sotiris followed Fox down the hall to her office. Lucretia followed silently behind, her grey eyes burning into the back of his head. His nerves returned, and he began to shake slightly as Lucretia closed the door behind them. Fox then turned and stared at him. "Sotiris, tell me. Whose idea was that?"

Sotiris blinked several times. "Ma'am?"

Fox chuckled. "I've known you for a long time, Chancellor," she said. "You're good at your job. You follow orders and you're intelligent. You can even be creative on occasion. But one thing you're not is observant. I don't believe for a moment that you really understood what happened last night on your own, nor do I believe this idea began with you. I think it's a fantastic idea, and I want us to pursue it. But, tell me: Whose was it really?"

He sighed. "It was my wife's," he admitted quietly. "We watched the execution together last night, and she brought the issue to my attention."

Fox looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your wife...Tasia, am I correct?"

Sotiris nodded. "Yes, that's her."

"I remember Tasia from a holiday dinner one year. Very kind, very smart, but had a rough edge to her. I liked her."

Sotiris's eyes grew distant. "She's in the hospital now, after the attack on our building," he said quietly. "The doctors don't think she has much longer."

Fox's expression softened. "My sincerest condolences," she murmured sincerely. "So, this battle is her dying wish?"

He nodded. "She...she wants the Districts to understand the pain of losing your child when there's nothing they can do to stop it."

He shut his eyes, refusing to let himself cry. The president put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise you, as your president, that I will back this project with all of my resources," she said. "In the memory of your family, and also because I think this plan is the best way to purge the remaining rebels."

"It's not enough."

President and chancellor stared at each other, confused. A cough sounded behind Sotiris, and they both looked to see Lucretia looking sheepish, but determined. "Was that you, Lucretia?" Fox asked.

The young woman nodded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "How do you mean, my dear?" Fox asked gently. "What's wrong with this plan?"

"What you have is a very dry idea that will do nothing except make people angry," she answered meekly. "You have to get the Districts to place the blame on each other, and the way you have it now, it's not going to happen that way."

Sotiris studied the woman curiously. "What would you suggest we do?"

"First, you need to let one live," she said. "Whoever that is gets to live a life of comfort back in their District, and we grant the winning District as a whole a prize as well. Food would be the best idea."

Fox picked her notepad back up and began writing again. "Wonderful idea, Lucretia," she murmured.

"Anything else?" Sotiris asked her.

"Turn it into a special event," she said, a little confidence finding her way into her voice. "Dress it up with glitz and glamour. Make the kids into celebrities that everyone will fall in love with. Also, offer the kids training so it at least appears that each one has a fair chance at winning."

"And you think this will turn attention away from us?" Sotiris asked.

Lucretia nodded. "It definitely will."

Her assurance piqued his curiosity. "How did you come up with such clever ideas?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "Oh, they just come to me," she said politely. "Thank you for your kind words though."

Fox finished writing down her suggestions. "I think we're good," she commented. "There's still a lot to do, but this is definitely a good place to start. Come, let's get back to the meeting."

Sotiris breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as he followed them out. He couldn't wait to tell Tasia.

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	3. The Announcement (Embla)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 3: The Announcement (Embla)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: Welcome back. Thank you for sticking with this little story.

In this chapter, we're giving Sotiris a little break and switching over to our District resident, Embla. I hope that doesn't throw you too much.

Disclaimer: I'm not Suzanne Collins; therefore, I don't own the Hunger Games franchise. I do, however, own the characters in this story.

* * *

The axe greeted the thick trunk with a loud thud. Embla Pinebrook grunted, wiping the sweat from her brow before taking another swing. The sun was setting, so she could go home as soon as she felled this tree. The only issue with that was that the tree wasn't falling. It seemed like her axe was barely making a dent in the wood. She heard some twigs snapping behind her, causing her to turn her head. A smile spread across her face as she saw her older brother, Grove, walking toward her. "Having problems there, Embla?" he asked, smirking.

"Yeah. This tree's being a pain," she replied. "No matter how many times I hit it, it won't come down."

He gave the tree a wary glance. "That's a rather big one for a kid like you," he commented. "Wouldn't you be better suited for saplings?"

She shot her brother an annoyed stare. "I'm seventeen, thank you," she retorted. "And I've felled trees larger than this before. This one's just being stubborn."

He chuckled. "If you say so," he replied. "I suppose it'll come down eventually. You just have to hit it enough times."

Embla rolled her eyes, but picked her axe back up. She took a deep breath, then swung it as hard as she good. She watched with satisfaction as the the wood began to splinter out. Grove came up beside her and took a swing of his own. The two siblings began to alternate swings, gradually widening the dent in the tree until they could hear it groaning. Grove took a step back, gesturing toward the tree with a smile. Embla grinned, then gave the trunk a final whack. A loud snapping sound filled the air as the tree finally surrendered its hold and fell to the ground. She stretched her arms and rubbed her shoulder in relief. "Finally," she said. "Let's get out of here."

He looked around. "Did the gatherers already turn in for the night?"

Embla shrugged. "I did my job. All I care about right now is getting some dinner."

"Now you're talking."

The two began the long trek out of the thick woods. "What do you think we should have for dinner tonight? Stale bread or more stale bread?"

Embla looked warily around them before shooting a warning look at Grove. "We're still out in the open," she whispered. "Be careful about what you say."

He returned her annoyed expression. "What? It's a simple fact," he replied. "The bread we receive in our rations is always stale."

"Grove, please," she whispered. "I don't want any trouble. I just want our lives to go back to normal."

"Normal? Please, tell me, what's normal?" he asked, laughing.

"We go to work, we get paid for that work, we get to eat and sleep in peace," Embla replied.

Grove rolled his eyes. "Peace," he muttered. "We'll never be at peace as long as the Capitol rules over us."

Embla pushed the blunt side of her axe against her brother. "Stop that," she snapped. "Dad was killed for talking like that. I'm not about to let you die too."

Grove had the grace to fall silent after that. The two managed to return to their tiny cabin without further incident. Their mother, Clara, had just placed dishes with a loaf of bread and some unidentifiable meat on their table. She smiled at them as they walked in. "Welcome home," she said warmly.

Embla walked over and hugged her mother. "Thanks," she said. "What's this?"

"Oh, I'm not exactly sure," the older woman admitted, glancing at the strange meat. "But it's apparently direct from District 10, or so the people at the rations station said."

Grove shook his head. "It's probably the scraps that nobody wants to eat in the Capitol," he muttered.

Clara gave him a sharp look. "It's not often we have meat at all, Grove," she said coolly. "I for one am grateful for it."

Grove rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. Clara glanced at her daughter. "Would you get us some plates, please?" she asked. "My leg is acting up."

Embla nodded, fetching the requested items as her mother sank into a chair and rubbed her knee. "I hate getting old," the woman declared.

Brother and sister exchanged glances, knowing full and well that it wasn't just age bothering her. But Embla saw no reason to argue, so she merely placed the dishes on the table. Grove decided to be useful and poured everyone a drink of water. Embla couldn't help but smile as they sat down and began to eat. Moments like these always made her feel at peace, even if the bread was still stale.

They had almost finished their meal when they heard a crackling over the District speakers. Embla winced as the cold voice of their mayor filled the air.

"President Fox has a special announcement, to begin in half an hour. This announcement is mandatory viewing for all citizens. Thank you."

Embla's stomach turned. "Another announcement?" she asked weakly. "What on earth could it be?"

"Probably another reminder of how...merciful...they are," Grove muttered.

Clara took a deep breath. "Let's finish our dinner first," she decided. "We have a television, so we're in no rush."

They bolted down their food anyway. Grove began to clear away the dishes as Embla helped her mother to another chair by the television. They waited anxiously as the minutes ticked by, wondering what the new announcement would bring.

The familiar fanfare blared as Grove finally sat down with them. The Capitol seal appeared briefly before going to a live shot of President Fox, who was smiling sweetly into the camera. Embla felt a cold shiver run down her spine as the woman's eyes seemed to burn into her, even through the screen.

"Good evening," the president said. "As you know, the leaders of the rebellion that recently devastated our beloved country have been dealt with. However, there have been concerns that the message did not reach the people it needed to most. And we all know exactly who those people are."

Embla closed her eyes. She knew exactly who the president spoke of.

"To ensure that every person in every District understands the full weight of their crimes against the very country that supports them, that you all realize the price of this terrible war, a punishment has been decided. That punishment, as well as some new laws intended to help the citizens of Panem maintain a peaceful future, has been detailed in a new treaty that we have designated the Treaty of Treason."

The girl's blood froze. She felt her mother stiffen beside her as her brother let out an angry hiss. She knew they were all thinking of her father.

The president held up a piece of parchment in front of her, then paused briefly. "Before I read this to you, I wish to acknowledge someone." She nodded to someone offscreen. "Chancellor Stone, would you join me please?"

A tall, stocky man with dark hair appeared on the screen. Embla's first impression was that he wasn't someone who sought out the spotlight or liked being the center of attention. He looked intensely uncomfortable at being on camera, but he didn't voice a complaint. Fox placed a hand on his shoulder and made him face the camera. "This is Sotiris Stone, the man who brought this idea to life. We all owe him a giant debt of gratitude. Please, give him a hand."

Scattered applause sounded from an offscreen crowd. Fox released Stone from her grip, then returned to the parchment. She cleared her throat, then began to read. Embla tried to focus as Fox went through the entire new treaty and detailed several new laws, including renewed Peacekeeper presence, and increased punishments for acts Embla considered trivial. Fox paused again, a small smile crossing her lips. Embla found herself hugging her mother tightly, anxiety coursing through her veins. The president patiently waited until she was sure that every eye in the country was fixed on her. Then she pushed forward.

"In penance for their uprising, each District shall offer up in tribute one male and one female between the ages of twelve and eighteen at a public 'reaping'. These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol and then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death until a lone Victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as the Hunger Games."

Complete and utter silence greeted Fox's words. She picked up a red stamp, then slowly, deliberately, she lowered it onto the parchment before holding it up for all to see. Then, as if she guessed that the last part hadn't sunk in, she repeated it, clearly savoring each word. When she finished, she smiled at the camera again. "These reapings shall take place in three months' time, at which time we shall send a representative from the Capitol out to each District to act as an escort for the chosen Tributes. Please do all that you can to ensure that they feel welcome during their visit. We shall have more information on the Games as they draw closer. Have a pleasant evening, and we shall see you soon."

A final nod to the camera, and the seal reappeared with a flourish.

Numbness was the first thing Embla became aware of. The feeling in over half of her body was missing. Then a low moan escaped her lips as pain shot through her body and she fell to the floor. Behind her, her mother began to weep. She struggled to stand back up. "No, Mom. It's ok," Embla said with forced cheerfulness. "It's ok."

"Ok?" Grove snapped, already on his feet. "Did you hear what that woman just said?"

"As clearly as you did," Embla shot back.

"Then how is it ok?" he hissed. "It's not. We need to stop this from happening, Embla. We have to fight back!"

"With what, Grove? As you noted, we're surviving on stale bread. Most of the people in this country are injured in some way because of the war," she retorted coolly, gesturing to their ailing mother. "We can't do anything."

Her brother's eyes narrowed at her. "Dad would be ashamed of you," he growled softly.

"Dad is dead!" Embla yelled. "He was hung a week ago on national TV! He doesn't get a say in this!"

Grove looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. Clara began to cry harder as Embla continued to yell. "I'm tired of you pretending like there's a way to take down the Capitol around every corner! There isn't! And you need to stop this before they kill you too!"

His expression went from angry to pained. "I don't care if I die," he muttered. "I just want them to burn!"

"Well, I don't want you to die," Embla snapped. "So get over it. And besides, you're not even going to be a part of these...Games, or whatever they're called. You're twenty."

"And you're seventeen," he reminded her. "You could be."

She shrugged. "District 7 has a lot of kids," she reminded him. "It's not likely that I'll be chosen."

A soft moan caught their attention. They turned to see Clara trying to stand up. Brother and sister to her at once and helped her stand. The woman's strong arms wrapped around them both as they began to walk her to her room. She carefully sat down on her bed, then looked up at her son. "Grove, please," she whispered. "Embla's right. You need to stop this rebel talk. I'm not..." her voice faltered. "I can't lose you too."

He grunted, but nodded. Clara then turned to her daughter, her eyes refilling with tears. "Embla..." she choked out.

The teenager hugged her mother. "Don't worry about me," she said. "Like I said, it's likely not going to be me."

Clara shook her head. "It likely is, Embla," she said tearfully. "They didn't say how they're going to pick these Tributes, did they?"

"They said something about being offered at a public reaping. No details about what that means."

The older woman just shook her head. "Whatever it is, I guarantee you that you'll be up there, along with the other children of the rebel leaders," she said quietly. "You see if you're not."

Embla just shook her head. "Please try and get some rest," she said gently.

Clara nodded, letting her daughter tuck her in. After she left the room, Embla retreated to her room and sank onto her own bed, her energy gone.

"She's right, you know."

Embla glanced up wearily. Grove stood awkwardly in her door. "You really don't think you're going to be involved at all?"

She shook her head. "No, I really don't."

"Wish I had your confidence," he said. "Just promise me something, Embla."

"Depends on the promise."

"Come home."

She blinked. "What?"

"If you're chosen to go, I mean," he clarified. "You might be aggravating at times, but you're still my sister and I want you to come home in one piece. Think you can do that for me?"

Embla rolled her eyes. "Grove, it won't be me," she said. "Now can you please leave me alone?"

"Sure," he said, closing the door as he walked away. "Good night, sis."

"Good night," she muttered before collapsing onto her pillow, too tired to even bother with changing.

* * *

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	4. Hatchling (Embla)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 4: Hatchling (Embla)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: Good morning, y'all.

Yep, I'm still writing this! Believe me, I'm having a great time writing it and I don't want to leave you guys hanging.

So, let's get right to it, shall we?

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. However, these characters are all mine.

* * *

The next morning, Embla woke up to find that she had received a notice. She had been assigned a new job: Building the stage for the Reapings. She briefly wondered which person in the power chain had been insane enough to assign her this role, but after a quick breakfast, she dutifully made her way to the town square.

A handful of other young men and women had already gathered by the time she arrived. They were all waiting in a line for their supplies as Peacekeepers meticulously made sure that each and every person assigned was there. As a result, the line was taking a great deal longer to move than it should. Embla knew better than to complain as she waited, though. She was not good at building things, so the longer she had to wait, the better.

Eventually, she found herself at the front. She received a stack of wood, a hammer, a box of nails, and a diagram of how the stage was to look. She stared at the diagram for a long moment, hoping it would somehow make sense. The Peacekeepers frowned at her. "Is there a problem?" asked one.

"Oh, no. Sorry," Embla answered, scurrying off to where the others were gathering. She studied the faces of her new coworkers, trying to place any of them. She knew she recognized a lot of them, but names weren't attached to their faces. Sitting down, she studied the diagram again, sweat already beginning to form on her brow. "I don't know what any of this means," she muttered under her breath.

A shuffling sound made her look up. Her coworkers were all getting up and setting to work, lining pieces up and hammering nails into the planks. She stayed rooted to the spot, unsure what to do next.

"Need some help?"

She looked up. Standing next to her was a tall, muscular boy with dark hair and eyes. He looked like he was at least the same age as Grove, if not older. His expression was a friendly one, but Embla still felt unsure about him. "What?" she asked.

"You look like a hatchling fresh from the egg, sitting there like that," he replied. "And the Peacekeepers are noticing."

She stood up at once. Glancing around, she could clearly see the unfriendly gazes fixed on her. "Thanks for the heads up," she whispered.

The boy shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Hatchling," he said. "We're all in this together, right?"

"Right," she said uncertainly.

"So, do you need help?" he asked more sincerely.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I'm used to cutting down trees all day, not building things."

"Ah. Lumberjack," he said, as if that explained everything. "Don't worry. I'll keep you out of trouble."

She allowed herself a small smile, then followed him back to his supplies. He handed her two boards. "Think you can handle someone telling you what to do, Hatchling?"

"The name's Embla," she replied. "And I think so, if you really know what you're doing."

"Ash," he said. "And I do. My dad and I are carpenters."

"Oh."

"Now then," he went on. "Let me show you what to do with this wood."

Over the next several hours, Ash patiently explained every single step to Embla, correcting her at once if he noticed her making an error. After several instances of this, the girl didn't know whether to thank him or punch him. But between them and the other people toiling under the hot sun, the stage began to form.

Still, she decided, the siren signaling lunch time was more welcome than it had ever been before.

The two went off by themselves to eat. Ash stared resentfully at his lunch. "Stale bread, moldy cheese," he muttered. "At this point we'd be better off fending for ourselves."

Embla looked around quickly. After making sure no one had heard, she turned back and stared at him. "You don't know my brother, do you?"

"Don't think so," he replied. "Who is he?"

"His name's Grove," she answered. "He's also a lumberjack."

"Then I don't know him," Ash told her, finally taking a bite and wincing.

"You sound just like him. That's why I asked."

He waved a hand. "So, how old are you, Hatchling?"

"Embla," she reminded him. "And I'm 17."

"So you're one of the lucky ones who might be going off to their deaths," he commented. "Me too."

"How old are you?" she asked.

"15," he answered. When he noticed her incredulous stare, he added, "I know, I look a lot older. But I swear I'm 15."

She shook her head as she took a bite of her own. "Well, at least if you get picked, you might have a chance," she said. "The others would see you as intimidating and leave you be."

He winced. "Doubt it," he muttered. "They would probably target me first." Then he shakes his head. "I don't know why I brought that up. Let's change the subject."

Embla opened her mouth to reply, but a loud shriek cut her off. The two teens turned, searching for the source. About twenty feet away, two Peacekeepers were wrestling a woman to the ground. She cried out for help, but everyone around them backed away, unwilling to get involved. One Peacekeeper managed to get her arms bound, and they marched her towards a brand new, very tall wooden post.. The observers began to follow, curiosity overruling fear. Feeling sick, Embla joined them, slipping through the crowd so she could see what was happening. "Does anyone know what happened?" she heard someone ask.

"I think they're about to tell us," said someone else.

The woman's arms were bound around the post. One of the Peacekeepers walked toward the crowd. "This woman is guilty of the crimes of stealing and attempting to smuggle bread," he announced. "The punishment for this grievous act is thirty lashes."

Silence met his words as yet another Peacekeeper produced a long, cruel whip. The man turned toward the bound lady, a grim expression on his face. Embla watched in horror as he raised his arm, then shut her eyes and covered her ears.

The crack and agonized scream that followed would follow Embla into her nightmares forever. As would the next one. And the next one. And the next...

Someone grabbed her hand tightly. She opened her eyes to see Ash pulling her away. "Come on," he whispered urgently.

Obediently, she followed him behind a stack of wood scraps. He gestured for her to sit, but a wave of nausea hit her. She brought her hand to her mouth as she leaned over, trying to choke it back. "Don't do that," he whispered. "If you need to throw up, do it."

She took him at his word, making it a few steps away before her stomach rejected its contents. After what seemed like hours, she returned to his side and sat down, shaking. Without a word, he held his water bottle to her lips. Very carefully, she allowed herself to take small sips. "Let's go tell them you're sick," he said gently. "Maybe you can go home for the day."

She nodded and attempted to stand. Her vision swam and her legs wobbled dangerously, but she managed to stay up. Ash put an arm around her waist anyway, then they began searching for someone to talk to. Fortunately, luck was on their side as they spotted a stray Peacekeeper that had come back to the site. "What's wrong with her?" he asked.

"Don't know," Ash replied. "Said she was feeling sick, then started throwing up back there."

The man looked disgusted. "Take her home," he ordered. "Then come right back here."

"Yes, sir," Ash said.

The man nodded as the two set off again. "Where do you live, Hatchling?"

"For the last time," she snapped. "It's Embla. And I live on the west side of town."

"All right, west side it is, Hatchling," he replied, ignoring her tone. "Tell me when I need to turn."

The girl grumbled under her breath. "Left up ahead," she muttered.

They turned the corner as she had instructed. "So, do you have any other family besides your brother?" he asked.

"Just my mother," Embla replied. "You?"

"Father and two little brothers," he replied, his eyes misting over. "We lost our mother during the rebellion."

Embla looked at him with sympathy. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry for me yet," he replied. "My brothers have a few years before they can get picked for the Games."

She winced. "Do you think the Games will still be around then?"

"I wouldn't put it past our friends in the Capitol," he remarked drily. "That's for sure."

"Fair point. Turn right at that pile of rubbish."

They spent the next twenty minutes carefully navigating the maze of buildings, changing the subject back to their families and other jobs. Ash's father liked making wooden sculptures out of scraps. Clara was extremely handy with a needle and thread. Ash had personally built a lot of the furniture in the District's homes. Embla loved being out in the woods.

Clara was sitting on the front porch when they arrived. She looked confused and alarmed as they approached. "Embla? Are you all right?" she asked, trying to run to them.

"Mother, it's ok," Embla said weakly, trying to calm her. "I'm fine."

"Just a little overheated," Ash said diplomatically. "Not a big deal, but the Peacekeepers sent her home."

Clara wrung her hands. "Oh, my baby," she said worriedly.

Embla shook her head and pulled away from Ash. "I think I can handle walking into my house," she said. To prove this, she took a few unsteady steps on her own. He let her walk unhindered, but made sure to stay right behind her until she was sitting on her bed. "I'm fine," she protested. "Really."

"Whatever you say, Hatchling."

She bit her tongue. Clara walked in and sat with her, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You don't feel hot," she commented, frowning.

"My work here is done," Ash said. "See you tomorrow, assuming you're feeling better."

"I will be," Embla grumbled. "Now, get going before they come looking for you."

He chuckled, then obediently walked out the door. Embla watched him go, a small twinge in her heart, then returned to protesting her mother's care. "I'm really fine. You don't have to fuss."

"You're not fine if the Peacekeepers let you come home early," Clara pointed out. "And besides...we don't know how long I'll have you to fuss over."

"Why does everyone assume I'll be in the Games?" Embla grumbled.

Her mother sighed. "You're a smart girl, Embla," she replied. "You know why. Now, please...let me do this."

Embla sighed, then gave up and laid down. This was going to be a long three months.

* * *

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	5. Changes (Sotiris)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 5: Changes (Sotiris)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: Hey y'all. Welcome back to the Capitol.

Yes, we're giving Embla some time to rest and returning to our friendly neighborhood Capitol guy, Sotiris. I'm sure you're all happy to see him.

Well, let's get this started, shall we?

Mandatory disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. I do own these characters.

* * *

Frozen wasteland. Dense forest. Mountain. Beach. Swamp. Desert. A ruined city.

All of these options and more lay in front of Sotiris as he tried to decide which one would make the most suitable Arena for the Games. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as he went over each one for the hundredth time. He supposed that all of them could be used in the years to come; after all, Arenas could not be built in a day. However, this did not eliminate the issue of needing to choose one right now.

After President Fox had announced the Games, she had pulled him aside and told him that he had been promoted. He was now the first to bear a new title, Head Gamemaker. He had been granted the funds, resources, and manpower to do as he saw fit to make the Games all that had been promised. Initially, he had been hesitant to take the position, only agreeing because he knew it was what Tasia wanted.

Now, as he stared down at his various papers, he was regretting his decision.

A quiet knock on the office door made him jump. Deciding it was time for a break anyway, he got up and went to the door. Lucretia was waiting outside, carrying a tray with tea and sandwiches. "You missed lunch," she explained. "The president wanted to make sure you had something to eat."

"Oh, yes, thank you," Sotiris replied, opening the door wider. "Please, come in."

The woman nodded and walked in. Sotiris quickly hurried around her and made a space on his desk for the tray. Lucretia nodded a silent thanks and set it down before pouring him a cup. She glanced at the plans scattered about. "Still don't know where the Games are going to be?" she asked bluntly.

"No," he admitted as he accepted the cup. "I think all of these options have potential, but we can use them for future Games. It's about finding the best one to start things off and set the tone for of the future Games, and I'm not sure which one will do that."

"It's been a month," Lucretia commented. "You could have said something sooner."

Sotiris winced. "Fox didn't just send you here to make sure I was eating, did she?"

She shook her head. "No. She wants a lot of definite answers, and she wants them now. I'm here to get those answers."

He sighed, then took a long sip. "I don't know what else to tell you," he said finally. "Perhaps you can help? You've already had so many good ideas."

She shrugged. "It couldn't hurt," she replied as she picked up a couple of the plans. "Do you have any hunches?" she asked as she read them over.

"I have been leaning more strongly towards two," he replied, picking them up and handing them to her. "But again, it has to be exactly right."

She nodded, still looking over the papers in her hands. "This one," she said firmly, handing one back to him. "That's the one you want."

He looked her choice. "What made you choose this one?" he asked.

Her eyes blinked in surprise. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Yes, I really do."

She gave him a hard stare, but complied. "What is the primary purpose of these Games?" she asked.

He frowned. "To remove the remaining rebellious spirits from the Districts," he answered. "Why?"

She walked back over and took the plan back, spreading it over the desk. "Look at the terrain," she said. "That alone would strike fear into the toughest of fighters. It will be hell for the Tributes there, and that's before they start attacking each other. In turn, it will crush the people watching, which makes your plan succeed."

He studied the plan closer. "The only difficulty there would be building the Arena," he pointed out. "If it's truly that bad there, then we will likely lose workers."

"Just use Avoxes," Lucretia replied. "A lot of the ones we have now were involved in the rebellion anyway. I'd say that's justice."

"In order to build this sole Arena in such a short time, we would need at least two hundred people working around the clock," he said. "Can we honestly spare that many and still have enough staff here to take care of the Tributes and work within the Capitol?"

Lucretia wrote down the number. "I'll speak to Severina after we get done here," she said.

"All right," Sotiris replied. Then he paused. "Severina?"

She glanced up at him. "The president has granted me permission to use her first name," she said dismissively. "Now, I have another question. How are the Tributes getting into the Arena?"

Sotiris knew better than to ask anymore. "Fly them in blindfolded," he replied. "It's the easiest and quickest method we have at the moment."

She didn't look too happy with his answer, but made a note of it anyway. "That might be all right for these Games, since we're pressed for time," she commented. "But for future Games, you might want to seek alternate methods. What about the time between when the Tributes arrive and when the Games start? I've noticed that there are a few days there, and I'd like to think they have a purpose."

He nodded. "Makeovers, presenting the Tributes, and interviews," he said. "We have to turn this thing into an event, so we need to take some time to make sure they look presentable."

"What about training?" Lucretia asked.

"What's that?"

"Training," she replied, looking sharply up at him. "Really, Sotiris, you're not thinking. The Tributes are all kids. Some might have experience with a weapon, and one or two might know how to build a shelter, but if you don't train them, they're going to die of exposure rather than violent confrontation."

Sotiris's heart sank. He knew she was right. "How do you know all these things?" he asked.

Lucretia shrugged. "I pay attention," she said.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Why doesn't Fox just put you in charge?" he asked. "You'd do far better at this."

"Not a chance," Lucretia replied. "I'm happy to help, but my job is to assist her. I have no interest in running the Games."

"As you wish," he said.

Lucretia heard the note of unhappiness in his voice. "Do you not want to?" she asked.

"Oh, no, I do," he said quickly. "I just didn't think plan ahead like I should have. But now I know for next time so I can do better."

She peered at him suspiciously, but didn't address the issue further. "So, is there anything else you'd like to tell me before I leave?"

He nodded. "I did actually have an idea I think you'll like."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. We'll have spots marked in a central location in the Arena where the Tributes will be lead to at the start. Once our people get out of the way, they will have to stand on those spots until sixty seconds have passed. That way, no one gets a head start."

Lucretia smiled. "Now you're using your brain," she said. "I hope you will remember to have a special surprise ready when one of the Tributes gets too eager and steps off early."

"Naturally."

"Excellent," she said. "Now, eat a sandwich. You've earned it."

He raised his cup to her as she exited, then turned back to his papers. For the first time in many weeks, he felt happy. An entire world of possibilities opened before him as he read over his many notes and maps. These Games were his to make, his to see come to life. The entire nation would be seeing the fruits of his labor...the results of his love. He picked up a pen and began writing furiously as more ideas sprang forth. Some were tiny, seemingly insignificant details that he could slip in anywhere. Others were much broader, probably not achievable for many Games to come. But he didn't care about that; all he wanted was to make the Hunger Games the best that they could be.

Some time later, there was another knock on the door. This time, it was far more urgent sounding, but he didn't even look up as he said, "Come in."

Someone with heels on was approaching quickly. He finished writing out his latest thought, then glanced up to see that Lucretia had returned. "Hello again," he said. "Is something wrong?"

She nodded, not saying a word. His smile vanished. "Tasia?" he asked.

The look on her face told him all he needed to know. The pen clattered to the floor as he raced for his coat. "I'll tell Severina where you've gone," she said. "Just go, and quickly."

He nodded, brushing past her and running for the elevator. The ride down was agonizingly slow, feeling as though a week had past before he reached the ground floor. He then resumed his fast pace, weaving through the throngs of people in the lobby as he raced for the door. He narrowly missed running over more than a few people as he ran outside, his fear growing with every step. By the time he burst through the doors of the hospital, he was panicking.

His wife's doctors clearly knew he was coming, ushering him to her room without so much as a word. When he crossed the threshold, a cold chill ran through him. Tasia was laying on the same bed, looking almost the same as she had a month ago. Only now, she was like a stone: silent and unmoving. Sotiris mutely crossed over and took her icy hand. "When?" he asked quietly.

"We discovered her eighteen minutes ago," one doctor said quietly. "We tried to revive her, but it was too late."

Sotiris nodded curtly. "Leave us."

"Sir..."

"Leave. Us."

The fury that crept into his tone sent the doctors out of the room without another word. As soon as the door closed, he lowered his head to the sheets. "Why, Tasia?" he asked miserably. "Why did you leave me? I've been working so hard to see your wish come true. And everything's happening, just like you wanted. You just had to hang on a little longer, Tasia, and you would have seen it." A broken sob escaped his throat. "You didn't even give me a chance to say good-bye," he cried. "Why didn't you let me say good-bye?!"

Only silence greeted his words.

* * *

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	6. Reaping Eve (Both)

The First Annual Hunger Games  
Chapter 6: Reaping Eve (Both)  
by TheAngryTaco

A/N: All right, we're back! And it's almost Game time.

In this chapter, both Sotiris and Embla get to have a moment in the spotlight. I hope that doesn't throw you off too much.

Enjoy as usual.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. However, this story and all of the characters within are mine.

* * *

Sotiris tiredly knocked on the door of Fox's mansion, pulling his coat closer as the chilly night air bit at him. An Avox opened the door a moment later and peered out. "I'm here for dinner with the President," he told her.

She opened the door for him, then reached out for his coat. He barely nodded at her as he adjusted his clothes, making sure everything was just so. Then he followed the woman through the grand maze of halls and rooms. A pleasant aroma reached his nose, suggesting of spiced meats and fresh fruit. It almost brought a smile to his lips.

Almost.

Fox and Lucretia were already seated at the banquet table when he entered the dining hall. The president smiled at him and raised her silver goblet. "Good evening, Sotiris," she said.

"Good evening," he replied.

Lucretia nodded at the chair across from her. "You can sit there," she said.

Sotiris did as instructed, then waited patiently as the women filled their plates. "This looks wonderful," he managed. "Thank you for inviting me."

"My pleasure," Fox commented. "But also, it wouldn't be right to celebrate tonight without you here. You are the reason we have anything to celebrate."

He sighed. "I'm not in any mood to celebrate just yet," he replied.

Fox studied him for a moment. "If you're concerned about backlash in the Districts, rest assured that I've personally sent orders to the Peacekeepers to be on high alert tomorrow," she told him. "If there is any hint of unrest, they will quell it."

Sotiris nodded, not interested in correcting her. "That's good. Do you have any word on our escorts?"

"Yes," Fox replied. "The mayors have all confirmed that they arrived safely. We're completely set for tomorrow."

"That's a good start, at least," Sotiris replied, taking a bite of chicken. Then he remembered how hungry he was and began to devour the food in front of him.

Fox gave him an approving look. "Much better," she commented before returning to her own meal.

The three finished their feast in relative silence. Occasionally, they would make a comment about which Districts were likely to provide strong Tributes or what they could add to the training at the last minute, but mostly they stayed quiet. Sotiris managed to maintain a pleasant facade, though he truthfully could not wait to go home. Lucretia, as usual, saw right through it. "Are you feeling all right, Sotiris?"

"As well as could be expected, I suppose," he replied after a moment.

Fox put her fork down. "You're thinking of Tasia, aren't you?"

Sotiris nodded. "You say it's because of me we have a reason to celebrate," he said softly. "But we all know that's not true. These Games were her idea, and I wish she had lived long enough to see them."

The president met his gaze. "I'm sure we all would have liked to have her join us for dinner tonight," she returned. "But she cannot. And I don't think the best way to honor her memory is to mope around."

Lucretia gently laid her hand on Fox's shoulder. Her expression softened. "The best way you can remember Tasia is by making sure that the Games are the greatest thing that ever happened to this country. Just remember that as we move out from here and you'll be fine."

He nodded. "Do you think anyone in the Capitol will be awake for the first Reapings?" he asked.

"Probably," Fox replied. "I know they start early, but I'm certain that everyone would want to see the Tributes as they're picked."

Lucretia shrugged. "I'm more interested in seeing which District will provide the Victor," she commented.

"That will all depend on who gets picked at the Reapings," Sotiris pointed out. "Though I think Districts 11 and 9 initially stand a better chance, since they're used to being outside and dealing with edible plants."

"I would expand that to the Districts that are used to being outside in general," Fox put in. "For example, District 7 or 10."

"Not so much 10," Lucretia said. "There aren't going to be any cows in the Arena. 4 would be the better bet."

"Well, I think we can all agree on one thing, at least," Sotiris went on. "Districts 8 and 5 will be lucky to survive the first day."

Both women nodded. "Such a pity," Fox said, though there was no real remorse in her voice. "Some Districts will forever be at a disadvantage."

"Will that be a problem, do you think?" Sotiris asked.

"Not at all," Fox answered. "It'll just make their eventual Victors even bigger heroes in the District, though they'll still pose no threat to us."

"Still, best to keep an eye on them," Lucretia suggested.

Fox nodded, then resumed cutting into her meat. "Eat, eat," she insisted. "Let's eat as much as we can before tonight's address. Then afterwards, we can have dessert. I had a special cake commissioned, just for us."

Lucretia and Sotiris nodded, then obediently resumed their meal as the trio fell once more into silence.

* * *

Meanwhile, Embla busied herself setting out dishes. She counted and recounted the number of plates again, hoping she had gotten it right. "I keep feeling like I missed somebody," she said fretfully.

"Well, if you did, we'll just get another set of dishes out," Grove remarked from his spot in the kitchen. "It's not like we'd chop your head off just for being one off!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're a big help," she returned. "Do you need anything in there?"

"No, I've got it, thanks. What time are they supposed to be here?"

Embla looked over at the old clock on the wall that someone still functioned. "Any minute now," she replied.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Embla scurried to the door and threw it open. Standing outside was Ash and his family. "Evening, Hatchling," Ash said with a smirk. "I hope you don't mind if I brought these troublemakers along for dinner."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on in. Dinner's just about ready," she said, stepping back to let them in.

"Thank you, Embla," Ash's father, Elias, said graciously. "Boys, what do we say to nice young ladies who hold doors for us?"

"Thank you," said five-year-old Olive, bowing slightly.

"Yeah, thanks," added eight-year old Mathias.

Elias shook his head with exasperation before going to greet Embla's mother. "Good evening, Clara," he said kindly. "How lovely to see you."

"Likewise," she replied, smiling. "Thank you for joining us tonight."

He laughed. "You should be thanking Ash," he replied, nodding at the boy.

Ash shrugged. "I figured we don't really have any reason to celebrate anymore, so we might as well take the closest thing we can get."

"I'd say having enough to for seven to eat under one roof is reason enough," Embla commented, bringing out some of the food. "And it's very good food at that."

The boys' mouths fell open when they saw what she was carrying. "Is that a real turkey?" Olive gasped.

"And fruit?" Ash asked. "Real, honest fruit?"

"Hey now, don't forget the salad and the bread," Grove teased, carrying the rest.

Ash's family continued to stare in shock as the siblings carefully laid the food on the table. "We had to save our wages for a few weeks to get these, but it was worth it," Embla said with a smile.

"I'll drink to that," Elias said.

"Unfortunately, we couldn't get anything fancy to drink," Embla said. "We have a choice of water or more water."

Ash shrugged. "I guess I'll have water then."

Moments later, the families were gorging themselves. An occasional word or two was passed between them, but for the most part, they remained focused on the food. Little Olive was near tears for most of the meal, unable to believe that this wasn't a dream. Embla ate as slowly as she dared, taking her time and savoring each bite. Ash was trying to do something similar, but he sped up with every new serving of turkey. Mathias tried not to appear impressed, but his love of fresh fruit overruled his desire to remain cool. Grove followed Embla's example and ate slowly, his expression one of pure bliss. Clara and Elias ate as if this were any other meal, though both knew the importance of it. It was easily the best meal that any of them had had in several years.

All too soon, the time came for the president's announcement. There was still some food left, so the families grabbed what they could and brought it into the living room so they could keep eating. The anthem blared almost as soon as Embla flipped on the television, the Capitol seal displayed proudly across the screen. Then it cut away to President Fox, happily sitting in a chair somewhere far away.

"Good evening again, citizens of Panem," she started. "As you know, tomorrow is Reaping Day for all of the Districts. Now, this will not take long, but I wish to refresh your memory on the procedure for tomorrow - and of course, the expectation of your conduct."

She proceeded to give a long, droning list of things that Embla had already heard in speeches past. Attendance was mandatory. The Reapings themselves were at staggered times, with District 7's at 11:30 am. All children between 12 and 18 would be entered. The Tributes would then be taken to the Capitol to prepare for the Games.

Beside Embla, Ash was fidgeting. When she glanced his way, he shook his head. "We already know all of this," he said. "What else does she have to tell us? It would be a waste of money to hold this without offering any new information."

Fox didn't fail to disappoint. "We have heard some disturbing rumors that people wish to stir up trouble during the Reapings," she commented. "While I'd like to think we can conduct these ceremonies in a peaceful manner -"

"Peaceful?" Grove hissed. "She doesn't know the meaning of the word!"

"-I also am not a fool," Fox said, oblivious to any anger. "Thus, there will be extra Peacekeepers on duty. If anyone is seen causing trouble, they will be shot on sight."

Embla shivered as she looked at Grove, who was still bristling. She returned her gaze to the TV as Fox continued on. "Now, as a final reminder, the Tributes will be taken immediately from their Districts. Thus, make sure you say any good-byes that you have before you come to the Reapings."

She paused for a moment, clearly savoring the shock and anger she knew the country was feeling. Then the president picked up her glass of water and held it up to the camera. "I will see you again tomorrow evening when we showcase the selected Tributes," she added. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

The seal returned with a flourish. Embla immediately turned to her brother. "You can't say or do anything out of line tomorrow," she said. "Do you hear me, Grove?"

He let out a frustrated grunt. "I make no promises," he replied. "If your name is the one picked, then I will cause trouble."

"Even if it is me, you can't cause trouble," Embla shot back. "We've been over this already. We need you here and alive."

"You know, I hate to say it, but she's right," Ash said. "You really ought to rethink your strategy about dealing with people who will shoot you for breathing funny."

"Yeah, you should listen to Miss Embla," Olive pipped up, standing as tall as a five-year-old could. "She's smart."

Grove folded his arms and sat back in his seat, resembling an angry toddler. Embla sighed, then began gathering the dishes. Without a word, Ash began to do the same, helping cart the various scratched plates and chipped glasses to the kitchen. "Thanks for the help in there," she said quietly.

"Anytime, Hatchling," he said, purposely putting emphasis on her nickname. "So, what are you going to do if your name is called tomorrow?"

"Probably wake up in a cold sweat, since that would be a nightmare and all."

He laughed. "I am serious, though," he said. "I've been thinking about it ever since they announced the Games. Will I try to run? Will I panic? Will I at least try to win?"

"And?" Embla asked as she washed a cut. "What did you figure out?"

"I would try to win at any cost," he answered. "The prize for winning is food for a year for your District, as well as a life of luxury for you and your family. If I won, my little brothers would be able to eat properly every night. And that would be worth it."

Embla shook her head. "And what would be the cost of that luxury?" she asked. "Twenty-three dead kids. It seems the price is too high."

He rose an eyebrow. "And if your name is drawn? Are you going to stand there like a bunny rabbit and let them slaughter you?"

"No, of course not," she said. "I'd fight to defend myself. But I'd rather win by staying hidden and outlasting everyone else."

"Except the price is still the same," Ash pointed out. "Twenty-three people still have to die for you to live."

A shiver ran down Embla's spine. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said. "My name's not going to be drawn. It's not worth worrying about."

"If you say so, Hatchling."

* * *

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